


Rahana

by AllegoriesInMediasRes



Series: Jodhaa Akbar canon fics [4]
Category: Jodhaa-Akbar (2008)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 11:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14354628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/pseuds/AllegoriesInMediasRes
Summary: Jodhaa does not sleep at all her first night back in Amer.Jalal does not sleep that night either.





	Rahana

**Author's Note:**

> Title means “separation” in Sanskrit. Set during the intermission.

Jodhaa does not sleep at all her first night back in Amer. Jalal does not sleep that night either, and come morning, his feet beat the familiar path to the threshold of her chambers, now bare and empty.

* * *

“Such discussions are improper when the Empress is visiting her family,” Jalal says sharply to the minister who had innocently broached the topic of remarriage. That empresses do not simply return to their childhood kingdoms on a whim for extended visits is not mentioned.

The Red Fort is abuzz with rumors about their Empress’s sudden departure in the middle of the night. Despite the depths of her betrayal, he has ensured that few people know the real truth about what happened. The fewer people know about treachery, the better, he says. If the Empress was such a viper, what ideas would lesser mortals get? Better than it remain unspoken, like a shameful secret.

That he threw his traitorous brother off the roof, and again when he did not die, as much a punishment as a warning to all, is not mentioned either.

And it seems his heart is a traitor as well, for at times he thinks  _I am protecting her honor for when she returns_  before striking down such whimsy.

And when a particularly foolish prime minister, who knows the whole truth, says that as the marriage was never consummated, and she is a Hindu anyway who never converted, dissolving it should be easy enough--

Jalal very nearly orders  _him_  thrown off the roof, though he contents himself with banishing the man from the Diwan-i-Khas.

* * *

“But you were so happy!” Her mother bursts out. “Right up to your last letter, you were writing about how well he treated you!”

“There was no trust, and so there could be no love,” Jodhaa says bluntly. About whom exactly she is speaking, she does not know.

“But of course the trust wasn’t there,” her father says, all sagacity. “It’s like that in all arranged marriages, and especially given that you were of different religions. But there was certainly respect, when he agreed to your --  _unorthodox_ \-- conditions.” Jodhaa smiles at the slight rebuke in her father’s voice; he still has not forgotten her audacity in placing such stipulations at the eleventh hour, without even telling him. “And you must have faith, before trust can be built.”

“I had faith,” Jodhaa says quietly. She rises and crosses to her windows, where the sun is setting. “And when the time came for it to be tested, he did not.”

“And do you still have faith in him?” her mother asks from behind her.

Jodhaa hesitates. Her mother had posed such a question to her before, when she gave her the vial of poison as an alternative to losing her honor. Jodhaa had put it away, had chosen to brave this life over the certainty of death. She’d had faith, and this is how it was rewarded.

“Besides,” her father says heavily, unhappily, “you may still be married for now, but he will not let matters sit idle forever. He may well dissolve it. And then where will the alliance be?”

Jodhaa’s stomach lurches at such a thought, a cold thudding feeling seizing her as she has never felt before. “Or he could simply take another wife,” she says, and the thought makes her hackles rise in a way they never have before. “Keep me here in permanent half-marriage and get himself a proper wife.”

She is not sure which is worse-- permanent rejection or permanent replacement.

“But we must give the  _khulla_  option consideration. You can’t remain like this your whole life, trapped in this not-marriage. It’s not good for you, and for other potential alliances we could make.”

“No!” Jodhaa says right away. She is not sure if it is her faith speaking, or her Hindu sensibility, or stubbornness, or hope. Perhaps it is simply the Rajput candor and pride, a pride  _he_  had once boasted he respected, admired, and shared. ( _And maybe, just maybe, it is the beginning sprouts of love, refusing to die even in this drought that has set in._ )

* * *

On the second anniversary of Pir, Jalal eats nothing. He keeps his promises, no matter what, and he will not go back on his word.

Far away in Amer, Jodhaa does the same thing.

* * *

She does not keep idle; she takes up swordfighting once more each morning, and determinedly chases away thoughts of Sujamal. But try as she might, she remembers her husband practicing out on the terrace, and finally one night, she allows herself to recall the memory in torturous detail. How she had dreamed of the chance to touch him herself, the desire that had flamed within her.

She fights fiercely the next day with abandon; her opponent trounces her soundly three times in a row before Jodhaa calls it a morning and excuses herself to her bedchamber, where she finally allows herself to weep.

* * *

He is grateful of course to Badi Ami, but a small part thinks it would have been better had he never found out, even if he had died from it. Anything other than this pain. What power does Jodhaa have over him that she still torments him like this, even from miles away? How is it even now, doubt needles at the back of his mind? He constantly feels as though he is missing something-- she had been aloof from him, certainly, held herself back, clung to her customs and traditions like an armor shielding herself from him. But all of that spells  _hesitancy_ , not  _treachery_.

What had possessed him to ever think of marrying a Hindu, or trusting her?

He strikes that thought down; bitterness is for old, jaded men, not young emperors who are the hope of Hindustan. But was he ever really young? Separated from his mother at a young age, Emperor over millions at thirteen, forced to test his principles against his regent and later exile that regent, his foster father murdered because of the favor he showed him, and his brother dead at his own hand.

Jodhaa, he had thought, was different, someone he could build something new with.

* * *

Every morning, she does her  _puja_ , walking about her chambers, wafting the sacred incense. Every morning, she will turn around after she is finished, expecting him to be standing there, watching her with those warm, curious eyes. Every morning, the stab of disappointment is as sharp as ever.

* * *

When Mother summons Salima and explains all, relief like nothing else he has ever known breaks over him. Anxiety and guilt is quick to take hold -- there will be so much to explain and so much to make right -- but even so, there is glorious, glorious relief.

When she sees him dismounting through the lattice, relief like nothing else she has ever known breaks over her. Anger and hurt is still there -- there will be so much for him to do before she trusts him again -- but even so, there is glorious, glorious relief.

**Author's Note:**

> I know from the timeline it’s unlikely the next Feast of Pir came around before the two were reconciled, but how could I resist the perfect angstiness of such a scene?


End file.
